


Transaction

by tastewithouttalent



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Loss of Virginity, Negotiations, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Yuuko rises to her feet in a spill of color, the silk of her kimono pouring like water around the motion of her limbs as she stands, and when she comes forward to lift a hand Himawari bows her head in surrender and reaches to lay her own touch against Yuuko’s open palm." Himawari makes a payment, and Yuuko fulfills a request.
Relationships: Ichihara Yuuko/Kunogi Himawari
Kudos: 15





	Transaction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cjburggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjburggie/gifts).



It is an easy price to pay.

Himawari had known there would be a cost. She knows that better than anyone, after a lifetime of charging a greater fee than most are willing to pay for the return of her company. There is nothing cruel or vindictive to the bargain Yuuko makes with Himawari any more than with any of her other customers: it is a fair trade, the terms laid out clearly beforehand, to be accepted or refused as both parties wish. There is a kindness to that, Himawari thinks; and after long years of extracting unspecified payment from everyone around her, she is grateful for the chance for a simple transaction.

“There is a cost,” Yuuko tells her, when Himawari stands before her as a customer instead of as a friend, asking for the satisfaction of a wish that she has held so close to her heart it is strange to set it free on the wings of voice. Yuuko doesn’t blink, doesn’t pause; it is as if she already knows what Himawari wants, as if she has only been waiting for the other to give it voice. Her eyes are bright, scarlet to match the roses blossoming to exquisite beauty on the sleeves of her kimono; Himawari feels the focus in that gaze, feels the force of it slip beneath her skin to trace out the shape of the dark, crippled thing that is the closest she has ever been able to draw to a sense of her own self. “There must be a balance to sustain the order of things.”

“I understand,” Himawari says, her hands still clasped in front of her as they were when she first stepped into the room, when she first drew breath to give voice to her request.

“You may refuse,” Yuuko tells her without moving from the spill of red silk and dark hair and pale limbs across the sofa where she is reclining. “You are under no obligation to accept my offer.”

“I know.” Himawari feels pressure in her throat, then, like the weight of the tears she never lets herself cry out of misery now struggling free at this relief she thought she might never have. “I accept.”

Yuuko looks at her from across the room, her eyes vivid as spilled blood, her expression as pristinely composed as the elegance of her position. For a moment Himawari is afraid she will turn aside, that she will change her mind and take back the grace her offer feels; but when Yuuko moves it is only to dip her head forward, to cast her gaze with the shadow of lashes falling heavy over the brilliance of her eyes, and Himawari feels the weight of a contract forming in the air between them even before Yuuko says “Very well,” in a voice like the rich dark of a bell tolling. She rises to her feet in a spill of color, the silk of her kimono pouring like water around the motion of her limbs as she stands, and when she comes forward to lift a hand Himawari bows her head in surrender and reaches to lay her own touch against Yuuko’s open palm.

It is darker in the bedroom. The main room of the shop is open, airy as if to open its arms to those customers that make it past the front gate and into the space that Himawari has only recently been able to see; the bedroom is dimmer, with the midday light softened to a dim haze by thin paper walls and hazed by the smoke rising from incense heavy and sweet in the air. Himawari feels as if she might be drugged by the weight of the scent, as if the rich perfume might curl into the space of her thoughts and draw them into paths of its own making, but she is happy to close her eyes and welcome the scent deep into her lungs. She has wished for this, has longed for it with an ache that has grown to something unbearable, even for Himawari, who knows all about self-denial; and when Yuuko’s hands settle atop her shoulders Himawari feels something in her loosen and fall away even before the buttons of her shirt slide free of the fabric.

It feels like a dream. Yuuko’s hands on her shoulders, curving along her waist, tracing over the front of Himawari’s blouse: Himawari keeps her eyes shut, keeps breathing in the sweet heat of the burning incense, afraid that if she opens her eyes the reality of this will melt into the dream it has been more often than she can recall. But there is no fading, none of the uncertain inventions of an imagination with no more than the comfort of her own wandering hands to build upon; Yuuko’s touch is steady, her fingers dextrous as they unfasten the buttons on Himawari’s blouse and slide the fabric free of her shoulders to pool at the ground. Himawari dips her head forward as her shirt comes free, steps willingly out of the circle of her skirt fallen to puddle around her feet; and then Yuuko speaks, “You can open your eyes, if you like,” with enough suggestion of amusement under her tone that Himawari finds herself obeying the offer before she can think of it.

Yuuko is standing before her, only a few steps distant from where Himawari is waiting in no more than her bra and panties. At another time Himawari might be embarrassed by her present state, might feel a shiver of self-consciousness at the expanse of skin laid bare by the clothing Yuuko urged free from her; but her thoughts are calm, her emotions steady, without the crackling electricity of nervousness she had expected. She only glances at herself, a quick consideration of the familiar shape of her body, unremarkable and ordinary; and then her attention is drawn upwards as if following the tug of a ribbon wound around the graceful angle of Yuuko’s wrist.

Yuuko’s back is to Himawari. Her hair is loose, falling to a sheet around her shoulders and well past her hips; it makes an impossibly smooth curtain, each lock as perfectly black as fresh ink still wet on the page. She is unfastening the sash holding her kimono around her waist; as Himawari watches the band around the other woman’s body loosens and slides free to let the weight of the clothing fall open and hang from Yuuko’s shoulders. Yuuko lets the sash fall, and lifts her hands to push back the weight of her hair, and then her kimono is slipping free of her shoulders and pouring down the length of her arms. It spills like water, the flowers printed across the silk rippling to liquid as they draw free of Yuuko’s shoulders and caress the curve of her back, and Himawari feels her breath catch in her chest as the silk puddles to the floor to leave Yuuko standing bare before her. There is nothing else against the other woman’s body, no barrier to Himawari’s view of Yuuko’s narrow waist and curving hips and pale legs but the curtain of her endless hair; and then Yuuko turns her head to look back over her shoulder, and even the heavy fullness of her bare breast isn’t enough to keep Himawari’s gaze from rising to see the smile Yuuko gives her.

“Come,” Yuuko says, and turns to face Himawari fully. One pale arm stretches out over the distance between them, a palm turns up to offer an invitation for Himawari’s own. “I will grant your wish, Himawari-chan.” Himawari’s throat tightens, tears of an emotion so foreign she can’t even give it the name of relief stick heavy on her tongue, and when she reaches to take Yuuko’s hand she does so with her head bowed and her eyes closed on the haze of wet at her lashes.

Yuuko’s hands are gentle against Himawari’s skin. There is a warmth to the contact, to the simple comfort of human touch pressing to the form that has always been a curse for those around Himawari, that has been as good as a death sentence for anyone who draws too near. The press of a palm to her shoulder, the weight of fingers sweeping back her hair; in the breath Himawari takes against the radiance of Yuuko’s skin, she thinks this would be enough to reward her for a price far greater than what Yuuko asked of her. But there is more, a slender arm winding around her shoulders to draw her in closer, and fingers trailing shivering pleasure across the curve of her spine, and when Yuuko’s hand finds the band of fabric around Himawari’s chest all Himawari can do is raise her arms to hold to the other woman’s shoulders and press her face into shadow as Yuuko unfastens the clasp of her bra and draws the straps down and free of Himawari’s arms. She makes the motion elegant, as if there is an artistry to the simple fact of stripping Himawari’s clothes free of her skin, and Himawari feels as if her body is growing more beautiful by contact, as if the delicacy of Yuuko’s touch is enough all alone to grant a value and importance to her own familiar form that she has never felt before. She feels radiant, like her skin is glowing, as if she might be made into something better and brighter just for the touch of those hands brushing against her; and then Yuuko’s palm draws up her neck, sweeping over the curve of her throat to cup the side of Himawari’s face, and when Yuuko’s thumb presses to tip Himawari’s face up Himawari gives herself over to obedience without even thinking of the tears sticking her lashes wet against each other. She looks up, seeing the dark of Yuuko’s gaze steady on her face even as her own breath catches on the gratitude she lacks words for, and then Yuuko’s lashes dip, her head bows, and the weight of her mouth draws Himawari’s against it.

Himawari’s eyes shut of their own accord, giving way to a surrender as instinctive as the one that tilted her head back in capitulation to the urging of Yuuko’s hand against her skin. Yuuko’s mouth shifts against hers, soft lips fitting closer against Himawari’s own, and when her hand slides to cradle Himawari’s head Himawari leans into the support as if it were a command, as if her body is answering a request she hardly even recognizes as such. Yuuko’s arm slides around Himawari’s waist, drawing her close to press their bodies together from hip to shoulder, and Himawari clings to Yuuko’s shoulders and parts her lips to give herself to Yuuko’s care. Her heart is racing, her skin flushing to heat at every point Yuuko is pressed to her, but Yuuko just holds her steady and goes on kissing her until Himawari’s thoughts are dizzied by the press of Yuuko’s tongue sliding over her own, and the soft of Yuuko’s lips hot against hers, and the stability of the hand clasping gentle certainty to the back of her head.

Himawari is lightheaded by the time Yuuko draws back to set her free again. The arm around the other woman’s shoulders is a necessity more than an indulgence, now; for the first moment Himawari has to cling to the support Yuuko offers, has to gasp breath from the pale curve of Yuuko’s shoulder. Yuuko doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push to hurry her on for more; she just waits, as composed now as she was in the shop, serene in her absolute patience. It is only as Himawari is collecting some part of her balance back into her heat-weak knees that Yuuko moves, and even then it comes as a step that draws Himawari with her, that makes the motion a joined act instead of a retreat.

“Come,” Yuuko says. Himawari can feel the dark whisper of the other woman’s voice like a touch against her hair, as if the sound is winding fingers into the curls tumbling around her bare shoulders. “You’ll be more comfortable lying down.” Himawari nods, her voice too far absent for her to retrieve it now, and when Yuuko steps back to replace her bracing arm with a clasped hand Himawari bows her head to follow the lead of the fingers wound carefully about her own.

The bed is enormous. It is set in the very middle of the room, with enough open space around it to make the choice indulgent in itself, as if the columns at the four corners are the outline of a stage for an invisible audience. Yuuko reaches out as they draw closer to draw back a curtain so sheer it’s hard to see it but for the rippling outline of a butterfly that seems to hang in midair upon the gauzy weight. She pauses at the edge of the bed, one arm lifted to hold back the curtain and the other urging Himawari forward, and Himawari takes the invitation to step to the waiting bed. The sheets are soft when she braces her free hand at them, silky at her skin and surrendering to the depth of comfort under her weight; there is an indulgence just to feeling the way the mattress gives beneath the press of her knees, to drawing over the silky caress of the sheets against her bare skin. Yuuko lets her hand go as Himawari climbs into the middle of the bed and turns to sit upright with her knees drawn up in front of her chest, but Himawari doesn’t feel the loss. The curtains around her feel a protection, however gauzy-thin they may be, and when Yuuko ducks her head and steps beneath them to join her Himawari feels like she could be forever content right where she is with no more than the span of the bed around her in exchange for the rest of the world.

Yuuko braces her hand over Himawari’s shoulder and leans in over her. The weight of her hair falls forward from her shoulders to spill around the both of them; when Himawari lifts a hand to stroke against it she finds the locks cool and heavy as water pouring over her hand and slipping around her wrist. Yuuko’s palm at her cheek is warm and steady, a comfort enough that Himawari finds her lashes fluttering even before Yuuko has turned her head to kiss her again, and when Yuuko’s tongue slips over her lips Himawari lifts her arms to wind around Yuuko’s neck and shuts her eyes to give herself up entirely to the other woman’s care.

Yuuko takes her time. Her mouth is hot against Himawari’s, her lips as certain as they are soft; by the time she has drawn away to spill the friction of her mouth along Himawari’s throat and towards the line of her shoulder Himawari feels herself glowing with heat and breathing quickly enough that the slide of Yuuko’s hair ghosting across her bare skin brings a shudder of pleasure more than self-consciousness for how little she is wearing. Yuuko’s lips pause over her collarbone, lingering to press the heat of a kiss against her skin; Himawari wonders if their color will cling there too, if she will emerge flushed and tousled and bearing the marks of Yuuko’s lips staining all the length of her body. The thought is a heady one, coming with a rush of dizzy desire that tightens Himawari’s nipples and fixes a knot of heat low in her belly while Yuuko is still tracing down the midline of her chest to the valley between the swell of her breasts.

Yuuko’s mouth touches Himawari’s skin, a glancing contact like wings fluttering fragile care against her body, before she turns her head to come up the slope of one breast. Himawari shivers with the heat of Yuuko’s breath spilling over her, her skin prickles with sensation as much anticipated as felt, and then Yuuko lifts her hand from Himawari’s face and lets her fingers trail down to cup against the weight of the other woman’s breast. Her fingers stroke, her hold tightens, and as she lifts her head to turn to the other side her touch slides up to drag over the point of Himawari’s taut nipple. Himawari arches against the sheets, her body curving upwards to fit itself to the form of Yuuko’s hand, and Yuuko bows her head to touch her mouth to Himawari’s other nipple and couple the heat of her mouth to the friction of her touch. Himawari’s hand comes up, clutching with awkward desperation against the weight of Yuuko’s hair spilling around her, and when Yuuko’s tongue slides across her skin she hears her voice pouring up her throat into a sound with more heat and depth than Himawari had known she held in her.

Himawari might be embarrassed, in another setting. She is sprawling across a luxurious bed, her body bare for the woman leaning over her and trembling with arousal that is too obvious for her to so much as close her lips around the giveaway resonance of it in the back of her throat. But everything here feels opulent, from the sweet of the smoke in the air to the weight of Yuuko’s hair across her skin to the warm wet of the tongue drawing circles around her aching nipple, and as Himawari gasps and arches off the bed she feels herself becoming more rather than less suited to the surroundings, as if Yuuko’s magic is in expanding the narrow scope of Himawari’s usual carefully scripted life into something darker and wider and richer than she had ever expected it to be. Himawari’s skin flushes, her body trembles, her voice breaks, and she feels herself melting into the moment, as she succumbs to the arousal Yuuko is stirring in her as willingly as she accepted the offer made in the main room of the shop.

Himawari is trembling as Yuuko draws her mouth away to continue her slow travel down Himawari’s body. Her breasts feel tight and aching with the heat that has swollen them heavy and sensitive beneath the urging of Yuuko’s hands and lips and tongue; she shudders as Yuuko’s fingers flick against her nipple, feeling the spike of heat run through her to nestle low between her shaking thighs. Yuuko’s hands trace the same path, curving along Himawari’s waist and out over the swell of her hips as her thumbs mark out a curve around the other woman’s navel; they press to brace there, steady for a moment of force, as her little fingers dip under the elastic of the panties still around Himawari’s hips. Himawari feels Yuuko’s touch against her, feels the friction of contact slipping into an intimacy she has never before felt from any hand but her own, and when she shuts her eyes it is to tip her head back against the sheets beneath her, to curve herself into a moan of encouragement that loosens her knees and spreads her thighs into invitation for the weight of Yuuko over her.

Yuuko draws Himawari’s panties down gently, carefully enough that Himawari can feel the silky fabric caressing her thighs and slipping across her calves as Yuuko rocks back over her knees while she slides the clothing free. Without the weight of Yuuko’s hair to curtain her Himawari can feel the glow of illumination against her bare skin directly, as warm as if it is sunlight kissing her body, and she opens herself up to that too, letting her arms fall heavy to the bed over her as she lets the wandering light explore the shape of her body cast into something new and beautiful by the effect of Yuuko’s touch upon it. Yuuko lifts her hand to drop the last of Himawari’s clothing over the edge of the bed, and with the sheer curtain around them still rippling with the motion she leans forward and bows her head to touch her lips to Himawari’s navel.

Himawari turns her head to the side as Yuuko’s lips touch her skin. She knows where the heat of that touch is bound, knows the path Yuuko’s tongue will be tracing; but still she turns, letting her gaze cling idle attention to the pattern of the curtains wrapping her in this retreat from the world while Yuuko works her way down Himawari’s belly to the palest skin on her body, where the delicate tracery of veins stands in branching blue lines just beneath the surface. Himawari can feel the heat of Yuuko’s breathing spilling against her, can track the dip of Yuuko’s lashes drawing along the thin skin just over her hip as the other woman bows her head close; and then Yuuko’s lips brush against the ache of want between Himawari’s thighs, and Himawari’s anticipation coalesces at once into a moan that flexes her shoulders and rocks her hips up in a smooth curve to meet the weight of Yuuko’s mouth against her.

Yuuko matches her immediately. Himawari’s hips come up, her thighs flexing on the effort to bring her closer to the heat of the other woman’s lips; and Yuuko opens her mouth, offering the slick drag of her tongue against Himawari’s body before Himawari can even find the words to plead. The friction draws over Himawari’s skin, parting the folds of her body to pull up across the aching pressure at her clit, and Himawari shudders with the force of the heat that spills into her in answer. Yuuko’s palm sets to the inside of her thigh, gentle persuasion tilting Himawari’s legs apart, and when Himawari submits Yuuko’s tongue works over her again, sending a cascade of heat sparking up her spine and flaring behind her open eyes. Himawari gasps, dragging air into lungs that seem to struggle to remember the rhythm of breath, Yuuko presses her lips together to suck against Himawari’s clit, and Himawari gives up air entirely as her lashes flutter and her throat strains on the helpless need of a moan.

Yuuko knows what she’s doing. Himawari knows how to press her fingers against herself when she’s alone in her room late at night, or standing under the helpful white noise of the shower splashing around her; but what took her months of trial and error to perfect Yuuko seems to grasp with intuitive certainty, without any need for guidance from the desperate hold Himawari has made of the other woman’s long hair. Yuuko works over her for long minutes, pressing the flat of her tongue to dragging friction before tipping her head to offer the force of lips pressing close to Himawari’s clit, until when her palm slides up the inside of Himawari’s thigh Himawari finds herself trembling with desire for it, with the anxious throb of want peaking past the point of rationality. There is no thought of embarrassment, or apology, or restraint; Yuuko’s hand comes up, and Himawari’s knees open, and when her hands tighten in Yuuko’s hair it is to brace her steady more than to push her away.

Himawari moans as Yuuko’s fingers slide into her. She doesn’t try to hold herself back, doesn’t make the attempt to stifle the heat in her throat, and she thinks it would be a lost cause anyway. The satisfaction is too keen, the slick push of pressure thrusting to fill the ache in her, until all she can imagine doing is whimpering over the low note of pleasure that ripples through her as what feels like the whole of her existence condenses to tension around Yuuko’s fingers. Yuuko draws her head back, close enough that Himawari can feel the heat of her breathing but just shy of the sparking friction she has been working over Himawari’s clit, and she stays close as she begins to work her fingers into the other woman. Himawari feels the force of each forward stroke, tightens with pleasure at each thrust of Yuuko’s fingers pressing into her, and as Yuuko finds a rhythm for her motion Himawari feels her own breathing catching into it too, her body fitting itself to the pace Yuuko sets for her.

The sensation washes over her, ripples chasing themselves through her body to arch her spine and part at her lips, and Himawari can feel herself aching with rising tension, as her thighs and belly and breasts all draw taut on the arousal Yuuko is stirring within her. Yuuko’s fingers are working smoothly inside her, their motion made slick by the heat of Himawari’s answering desire; and then Yuuko draws a breath, and Himawari feels anticipation spike in her in the moment before the other woman lowers her head to Himawari’s clit once more. Yuuko’s tongue slides up, working against the folds of Himawari’s body to drag against the heat of her clit; and then she sets her mouth, and sucks against the hard ache, and Himawari’s back curves, her head goes back. Heat builds in her, swelling to excess even as it tightens to a single point of inevitability; and then breaks to a cascade, shuddering through her body and rippling from her throat as she comes. Her fingers in Yuuko’s hair tighten, her thighs flex, her toes curl; and Yuuko keeps bracing her, her fingers moving with unflinching force as she sustains the pressure against Himawari’s clit. Himawari gasps for air, hiccuping for breath that she spends in shudders of pleasure as soon as it is won, and she goes on coming, her orgasm pulled impossibly long by the rhythm of Yuuko working into her. Each wave ebbs only to make space for the next, for a fresh surge of heat that drains reserves Himawari didn’t know she had from her body, until finally it is more exhaustion that brings a conclusion than the impossibility of more. Yuuko ceases the thrust of her fingers, and frees Himawari from the press of her lips, and Himawari goes slack against the sheets, more entirely and utterly spent than she had known it was possible to be.

It’s impossible to so much as think of moving. For long minutes Himawari lies where Yuuko held her, her knees open and breath rasping and eyes open as she stares into a distance knocked out-of-focus by her own pleasure. Yuuko sits up at the end of the bed and eases her fingers back from between Himawari’s thighs; Himawari notices only distantly, as if she’s hearing of something happening at some great remove from herself. By the time she has returned enough to blink herself back into intention Yuuko is kneeling at the end of the bed, her expression composed and position as graceful as ever, without any apparent discomfort at her lack of any clothing beyond the spill of her hair around her shoulders. Her gaze is fixed on Himawari; her eyes look darker, now, as absolutely black as the locks tumbling to such elegant disarray over her pale skin. Himawari can’t grasp any hint of the other woman’s response from the look on her face, can’t make any guess as to what Yuuko is thinking; she’s surprised to find that with the heat of pleasure still radiant in her body, she doesn’t mind the uncertainty at all.

“I have granted your wish,” Yuuko tells her. Her voice is so low that Himawari’s body thrums in answer just to the suggestion of the words, as if even this oblique reference is enough to bring on an afterimage of the pleasure that coursed through her to leave her spent and slack of all the tension she has grown so accustomed to bearing with her. “And taken the price of your virginity, as well.” She tips her head to the side into a gesture of deliberate curiosity as her gaze finds and holds Himawari’s. “Was it worth the cost?”

Himawari ducks her head to nod without having to pause for thought. She knew what she was asking for, standing straight and certain in the main room of Yuuko’s shop; this experience must necessarily come with a loss, and after years of resigning herself to lacking this as so much else, giving herself over to the certain work of Yuuko’s hands is the best decision Himawari thinks she ever could have made.

Himawari draws one of her arms back under her to brace an elbow at the sheets so she can push herself up. It takes her a moment to sit upright, and another to shake her hair back over her shoulders as she draws her knees up in front of her; Yuuko waits, radiating the same absolute patience that first drew Himawari’s attention, that has held it with unceasing force in the months that have followed their first meeting. Himawari had wondered if it was simple curiosity that so fixed her interest, if she might find Yuuko’s hold on her loosened by exactly the indulgence in it she has so craved; but there is no lightening of the effect now, and she finds she is not surprised. There is something magnetic about Yuuko, as innate to her existence as the lack of luck is to Himawari’s, and Himawari is happy to let her attention linger on Yuuko’s face, without the need to even consider hiding her interest.

“It was worth it,” she says, careful with the accuracy of the words as she frames what else she wants to say. Yuuko doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as blink; it is as if she can hear the murmur of Himawari’s thoughts as the other woman draws herself together around the specifics of what she wishes to ask. Himawari draws a breath into her lungs, and clarity into her thoughts, and when she lifts her head she meets Yuuko’s gaze without flinching, as directly as she has ever looked at anyone. She has nothing to hide from Yuuko, even if she didn’t suspect the effort to be futile before it began, and there is a pleasure just to looking at the other woman, to meeting her with the same self-assurance Yuuko brings to every interaction. “May I make another request, Yuuko-san?”

Yuuko lifts a hand from her lap to gesture to the gauzy curtains around them and the space beyond that. “This is a shop,” she says levelly. “I grant wishes.” She lowers her hand to her lap again. “If you can pay the price, you may ask for anything.”

Himawari bows her head in understanding. “I wish…” Her words stammer, her voice trembles; she reclaims it, drawing it back to stability as she collects herself. “I wish to spend more time with you, Yuuko-san.”

“Mm,” Yuuko hums. Her fingers lift to sketch the shape of the bed around them. “Like this?” Himawari bows her head again into a nod. Yuuko draws a breath and lets it out, slowly. “That is a wish I can grant.” Himawari lifts her gaze to meet Yuuko’s steady attention, as unflinching now as it ever is. “Are you sure you wish to pay the price?”

Himawari breathes out and into a flicker of a smile. “I already have.”

Yuuko’s mouth tugs towards a hint of what might be amusement. “Well then,” she says. “I will grant your wish.” She lifts her hand, reaching out towards Himawari sitting at the bed, and Himawari leans in at once, surrendering to Yuuko’s touch before it has even reached her. Yuuko tips her head to the side as her hand fits to the back of Himawari’s head, and Himawari shuts her eyes to give way to the soft of Yuuko’s lips pressing to her own. After a moment she reaches up to touch Yuuko’s bare shoulder, and then to wind her arm around the other woman’s neck, and when Yuuko’s arm draws around her waist Himawari leans closer at once, giving in to the embrace as quickly as it is offered.

Her love wasn’t part of the initial price, Himawari knows; but she thinks it would take someone far less human than she is to stop themselves from offering their heart for the care of Yuuko’s outstretched hands and certain smile.


End file.
